The Fear of Falling Apart
by RoriDelilah
Summary: If anyone else had experienced the horrors he had, they would understand why he needed to find any way possible to numb the pain. Inspired by Panic! At The Disco's song This is Gospel. Rating M to be on the safe side for content relating to drug addiction and language.
1. Led Away by Imperfect Impostors

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** I only own the plot and the oft-mentioned potion. Everything else belongs to Queen JKR. I just like playing with her creations.

 **Additional Disclaimer:** The title of this story and the inspiration for the story comes from the song _This is Gospel_ by Panic! At The Disco. Sadly, I do not own this song, or the band, or Brendon Urie. Dammit.

It was well after nightfall when a young man in dark robes staggered down the center of Knockturn Alley. He knew that it was not safe to be there, but addictions made people do things they normally would not do. He should have planned better, should have made sure that he would not run out of the potion that had become essential to his living. When one lived through the horrors that he had, they did what they had to do to numb the pain. It was better to float through life without being tethered to reality than it was to try to live with the aftermath of those horrid years. He never intended to end up like this. In fact, his life was so far off of this planned trajectory, he often felt he was having an out of body experience and was living someone else's life. He went through the motions when he had to be around other people, but he found himself becoming more and more reclusive. The further he spun into his addiction, the more difficult it became to hide. He told his friends that he was coping with his issues, but neglected to tell them exactly how he was coping. He knew that if his two best friends discovered his secret that it would be disastrous, so he did everything he could to hide any and all evidence of his coping mechanism.

He knew it had been entirely too long since he last took the potion, as he was starting to sweat and shake, so he did his best to quicken his pace. He didn't have much further to go, and was looking forward to getting what he needed and leaving Knockturn Alley as soon as he could. He did his best to strengthen his resolve so that he could make the final few meters to the back room of the Knockturn Apothecary. He silently cursed the fact that the potion could not be ordered by owl post and that he had to pick it up in person. Although he knew the old witch that ran the back room was discreet, as she did not want to lose her steady stream of income from the young man, it was dangerous for him to be in Knockturn Alley at any time of day, much less the late night journey he was currently on. He was almost there, the building was in his sight, just a little further and he would have new stores of the potion that he so depended on. He was just glad that, other than the shopkeeper, nobody knew his dirty little secret. He shuddered to think how people would take it if they knew that he, of all people, was taking this particular potion. But if they felt the things he felt, had seen the things he had seen, they would want to do whatever it took to dull the pain. Witnessing death and destruction, being forced to partake in the death and destruction, all of it would be enough to drive someone to the edge. Finally, he made it to his destination and used the special knock the shopkeeper utilized to indicate that it was someone trustworthy knocking at the door. A moment later, the grizzled, old witch opened the door, her nearly toothless smile temporarily sobering him. He really hoped that he wouldn't look like that when he was old. She stood aside and let him in, and he immediately sank into the nearest chair, the lack of potion having made him a weakened mess physically.

"Hello, dearie," she said. "A little late to be making a social call, isn't it?"

He couldn't believe his ears. He was out of potion, had to make the trip through Knockturn Alley in the middle of the night, and she was being sarcastic. If it weren't for the fact that she was the only person he could trust with his situation, he would have left and not given her a single knut. But, circumstances dictated otherwise, and he found himself sitting there in silence as the old witch cackled.

"Ooh, we're in a frightful mood this evening. Did we run out of potion?"

Finally he had enough of her sarcasm. His head was pounding, he was dizzy, he was shaking, and he was sweating. He could not deal with her mouth on top of everything else.

"Of course I'm out of potion. I thought that much was obvious, you old hag."

She tsked and shook her head. "Now is that any way to speak to you elders?"

"I'd prefer not to be speaking to you at all," he replied. "You know what I want, so let's just get this over with already."

"Patience, my child. I just finished brewing a fresh batch. I'll get it vialed up and ready to go in a moment. Of course, we also have to discuss the matter of your payment," she said glancing at the bag that she knew contained his money. In her line of work, there was only one thing better than someone who was completely addicted; it was someone with unlimited funds who was completely addicted. That in and of itself made him her favorite client. He never begged her for credit or was willing to completely degrade himself for the potion. He simply came in, paid, and left. It was the easiest money she ever made.

He laughed. "We never have to discuss the matter of payment. Unlike some of your other clientele, I have the resources. You know the routine. You put the goods on the counter, I hand you the galleons, everyone goes home happy," he said.

"Of course," she replied. She turned away and walked into the back where she kept her brewing potions, whispered the password and entered the room. A few moments later, she came back with several vials of a very expensive, very illegal potion. She set the vials on the counter and looked at the young man expectantly. He just shook his head and wordlessly reached into his money pouch and put the agreed upon sum on the counter. He immediately opened one of the vials and drank the potion. The effect was instantaneous. He no longer physically felt like hell and he was on his way to the beautiful feeling of nothingness that the potion provided. He gave the old woman a genuine smile, nodded his thanks, and left the store.

Perhaps it was the potion's tendency to make him feel invincible that made him less than aware of his surroundings. This would prove to be a costly error in judgment, as he would soon find out. He had put the potions in his satchel and started the walk back down Knockturn Alley, feeling much better than he had before. For some reason he started thinking about the Cornish Pixies that had terrorized the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in second year. The potion always had the effect of making him remember the most random events. But as he remembered the look of horror on everyone's faces and started laughing, he paid no mind to anything around him. It wasn't until he walked straight into someone that he realized his error. He looked up and when he saw whom he had bumped into, he groaned loudly. Of all of the rotten luck, he managed to bump into an auror doing patrols in Knockturn Alley. While in possession of a bag full of vials of an extremely illegal potion, while under the influence of said potion. He just knew this was not going to end well. He mumbled a quick apology and tried to maneuver around the auror, but the auror did not allow him to pass.

"Why are you skulking about Knockturn Alley in the middle of the night?" the auror asked.

He froze. The potion was not allowing him to think clearly, and while under normal circumstances he could have come up with some kind of plausible reason, he could not think of one at the moment.

"Well, I'm waiting," the auror said impatiently. "I haven't got all night. I'll ask you one more time, why are you out here at this time of night?"

He knew he should say something. He knew he had to say something. But it was like there were a million miles between his brain and his mouth. He couldn't think of anything to say, he just stood there with his mouth slightly open completely speechless. _Come on_ , he thought. _Think of something_! But apparently he had taken too long to come up with any kind of response, and the auror was immediately even more suspicious than he had been originally.

"Open your bag, sir," the auror ordered.

"Um," he said, trying to stall for time.

The auror knew something was extremely amiss in this situation, so he pulled his wand and muttered a quick _Incarcerous_. It was at this point he knew that he was, without a doubt, completely and utterly screwed. He was bound and he watched helplessly as the auror opened the bag, and found a money pouch and several vials of potion. The auror uncorked one of the vials of potion and sniffed. His eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what kind of potion it was, as it was not something that he immediately recognized. That in itself set off alarm bells in the auror's head, and he knew that he had likely just apprehended someone with some sort of illegal potion.

"Well, I'm not sure what this potion is exactly, but let's take a little trip to the Ministry to find out. Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest for suspicion of possessing illegal potions."


	2. The Gnashing Teeth and Criminal Tongues

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own the HP Universe or PATD. But if someone is looking to buy me a birthday/Christmas present, these would be a great place to start.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not somewhere Draco had wanted to find himself. He was already on thin ice after the events preceding the end of the war, and he knew that even the most minor of transgressions could have serious repercussions. He didn't even want to think about how horribly this situation would play out. I wasn't as though he was caught with Pepper Up Potion. Once the potions masters the ministry employed figured out exactly what potion he had in his bag, he was going to be in a world of trouble. He looked at the bare, drab walls of the interrogation room they had left him in. He knew that someone had to be watching him, even though he could not see them. He tried to keep an unaffected look, a look of innocence, which was admittedly an exercise in futility. No matter how innocent he looked, he couldn't make the evidence of the potions go away. He settled for staring at a spot on the wall and mentally counting down the seconds that turned into minutes while he waited for someone to come back into the room. The only thing he could hope for was that he managed to find someone compassionate in the department who wouldn't immediately throw the book at him based on his previous actions. He knew that he was in danger of being sent to Azkaban. _But really_ , he thought, _would that be so terrible? If they administer the Kiss, and the fractured remains of my soul are taken from me, then I won't need the potion to take away the pain._ This thought comforted him, and he began to realize that there were far worse things than being given the ultimate punishment. It was at that moment that he hit his rock bottom and realized that no life at all was better than the life he was currently living. As he was having this sudden epiphany, the door to the room finally opened. He looked over and groaned. The absolute last person he wanted to see was Harry fucking Potter. But there he was, looking at him with disgust in his eyes.

"Malfoy," he said. "I'm so glad to see you are making the most of the second chance you were given after the war. Is there any particular reason you were walking around Knockturn Alley in the middle of the night with a sack full of the Opius Potion?"

"I don't have to answer to you, Potter," Draco spat. "You are nothing to me, so you can just turn right back around and crawl back into whatever hole you came out of. The last thing I want is to deal with you."

"Considering I'm the auror assigned to this case, you might want to rethink your position and your tone," Harry responded.

Draco put his head in his hands. Just when he thought that the situation couldn't get any worse, his case gets assigned to the Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die. He stayed in that position for several minutes hoping against hope that when he lifted his head Potter would have been nothing more than a terrible hallucination. After a few moments, he slowly looked up to see Potter still standing there staring at him. At this point, there was absolutely nothing that could make this situation any worse. Unless, of course, that insufferable Granger or that idiot Weasley came into the room. If that happened, they wouldn't have to worry about a trial or sending him to Azkaban, because he would simply bang his head into a wall until he dropped dead in the interrogation room. While these thoughts were racing through his head, Potter remained silent and just stared at him. When Draco met his eyes, he saw that he was no longer looking at him with disgust, but with pity. That was just about enough for Draco. He would _not_ sit there and allow Harry bleeding Potter look at him like he was some kind of pitiful charity case.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Potter. Stop looking at me like I'm some kind of lost little puppy. While I seriously doubt your intelligence or capability to perform your job, let's move past the formalities. You know why I had that potion. I know why I had that potion. So let's skip the melodramatic scenes and get down to business. Chuck me in Azkaban and throw me to the dementors," Draco said with an extremely quiet, deadly tone.

"Malfoy, believe it or not, I don't want to just—how did you put it—Oh yes, 'chuck you in Azkaban and throw you to the dementors," he replied. "Yes, I know why you had those potions. And I know enough about those potions to know how you're going to be feeling in a couple of hours without it. But I assure you, no matter how hellacious you will feel, you do _not_ want to be sent to the dementors. Besides, even if I wanted to send you to Azkaban, you are still required to have a trial through the Wizengamot. There are protocols that have to be followed, even if you're willingly asking to go to Azkaban at the moment."

"Well, call the Wizengamot in and let's get this over with. I am fully prepared to accept my punishment. In fact, at this point, I welcome it. It's a hell of a lot easier to not feel anything if you don't have a soul. It's not like I have anything to want to live for at this point. The way I see it, this is a quicker, cleaner means to an end. And everyone would be better off for it."

Harry sighed in exasperation. "We cannot call in the Wizengamot in the middle of the night. And even if we could, you have to wait until your trial comes up on the schedule. For the moment, we are going to have to send you to St. Mungo's. We do not have the capability to help you here once the potion wears off, so for the safety of everyone involved, including yourself, the chief auror has ordered us to take you to St. Mungo's, where you will be held until your trial with the Wizengamot. You do not have an option, so don't even try to object," he said, holding up a hand when Draco looked as though he was about to speak. He thought for a moment before asking the next question, even though he knew he had to ask it. "Who do you want us to floo to notify them of your arrest and placement at St. Mungo's?"

Draco looked at him like he had grown an extra head. "What do you mean who do I want you to floo? Nobody, you daft moron! Why would I want to alert _anyone_ to the fact that I was arrested and will be held involuntarily at St. Mungo's? What a stupid question to ask—"

"That's enough, Malfoy," Harry said, cutting him off. "We have to floo someone when you're being transferred to St. Mungo's. You have to know someone who we can notify."

"Who exactly would you suggest, Potter? My dead parents? My long-suffering best friends? Just let it go. I don't want treatment. I don't want to floo anyone. I just want this all to be over."

"I'm not going to be reprimanded because you're being obstinate. Give me a name. If you do not, I will start flooing all of the Slytherins in our year until I find someone who is willing to come. So unless you want me to wake up all of them in the middle of the night to inform them of your _situation_ , you might want to think of someone."

"For the love of Merlin, Potter. You really are an annoying bastard, you know that? Fuck you and fuck your precious protocol."

"Malfoy, I'm giving you thirty seconds to give me a name, or I _will_ start flooing Slytherins. What's it going to be?"

"You're giving me a headache. Heaven knows we don't want the golden boy to get in trouble. Of course you could probably burn this whole building down and nobody would even bat an eye. Hell, they would probably give you an award for services to the Ministry for allowing them the opportunity to redecorate."

"Stop changing the subject. A name, Malfoy."

"Your voice is grating in my head. Just know the only reason I'm cooperating is because it is the only way to get you to shut the hell up. Floo Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, they're the only people who will give a damn about any of this."

"Parkinson and Zabini? They don't exactly seem to be the compassionate type. Are you sure that's who you want us to floo?"

"Firstly, you know nothing about them. Secondly, you sat here and badgered me to give you names, and now those names are not sufficient. This is the part where you're supposed to finally shut your annoying trap, turn around, leave the room, and floo the people I just named. This is not the part where you are supposed to question me when I just gave you what you wanted. Now stop talking and get this over with. The sooner I'm away from you, the happier I'll be."

Harry just shook his head and wordlessly turned around and left the room. He didn't know what he did to deserve having to deal with Draco Malfoy again, but he was sure going to do his best to earn some good karma points. He walked into his office and pulled out the floo directory. One of the perks of being an auror was the book that gave the location of everyone's residences, and therefore their floo connections. Another perk was that even if someone had blocked off their floo connection, aurors were able to break through the block. He was not looking forward to these conversations. He had never exactly been friendly with either Parkinson or Zabini, and he didn't think that this call was going to endear him to them. Finally locating the specific floos he needed, he threw some powder into the fireplace and kneeled down.

"Pansy Parkinson!"


	3. From Pieces of Broken Memories

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, I don't own it. And don't try to sue me, because all I have is a shitty PT Cruiser, some Ikea furniture, and $70,000 in student loan debt.

 **Also, thank you to more commas than necessary for the review.**

Draco was lying in a bed at St. Mungo's feeling worse than he had in a very long time. Not only was he going through withdrawals from being suddenly forced off of the Opius Potion, he was starting to relive the memories that he took the potion to keep buried. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw another atrocity. His mother's face when his father was sent to Azkaban. The terrifying year he spent trying to mend the vanishing cabinet. That night on the Astronomy Tower. Watching the murder of that Muggle Studies professor in his house. Practically being held prisoner in his own home and being forced to live with Voldemort and various other Death Eaters. The Battle of Hogwarts. The fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. The entire wizarding world looking at his family like they were the scum of the earth because of their role in the war. Discovering his parents' bodies. All of it was enough to make even the strongest person break, but Draco never thought himself to be a strong person to begin with. Sure, he played the part well in his youth, but the more that he witnessed and the more that he was forced to participate in, the weaker he felt. It was his self-perceived weakness that drove him to try the potion in the first place.

At first he used Dreamless Sleep potions to keep the nightmares at bay so that he could sleep and somewhat function. But after continued use, he began to develop a tolerance to it, and eventually, no matter how much he took, it had no effect. He began to fear falling asleep, because he knew that his subconscious would continually punish him and the second he closed his eyes the events would unfold over and over again. He would go without sleep for days at a time, only succumbing to slumber when his body just could not handle being awake any longer. But even then, it was only a momentary reprieve. He knew that he had to do something; he felt so much pain when he was awake. He felt it even more when his defenses were down when he was trying to sleep. He was desperate and willing to try anything to make the pain stop. He had tried everything he could think of from the more reputable apothecaries, there was no potion that he could find or any remedy he could concoct to dull the constant pain he felt. It was out of sheer desperation that he found himself in the Knockturn Apothecary. He was loath to go into Knockturn Alley, but he knew that if he was going to find anything that would help him, it would be there. The only other option was to let himself go completely mad or bring the pain to a more permanent end. Little did he know that this impulsive decision to go to Knockturn Alley that day would wreak such havoc on his life, not that his life hadn't been a disaster to begin with. It was that day that he was introduced to the Opius Potion. It was that day that he was finally able to numb the pain. He felt free for the first time in years. And he was willing to do whatever it took to keep that feeling. So began his descent into the depths of his addiction, and his disregard for the consequences of purchasing and using such an illegal potion. He was finally able to get through the day, he was able to sleep without the nightmares. As long as he didn't run out of the potion, he was able to push through and keep going. But now he was facing the most terrifying thing he could think of. He was going to have to feel everything he buried by using the potion. He was going to be wrecked both physically and mentally. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

It had only been a few hours since he had been brought to St. Mungo's, and even though Potter had insisted it was the best place for him, he couldn't understand why. As soon as he arrived, they locked him in a solitary room with a bed and a bucket. He knew why the bucket was there; eventually he was going to be vomiting more than Weasley did with that backfiring slug curse. He was already feeling shaky and sweaty, like he had run a marathon while simultaneously having the flu. It was only going to get worse, and when coupled with the mental effects he was starting to feel, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. The images of his past were beginning to race through his head. The healers were going to do nothing to help him with any of the physical or mental anguish he was going to go through. They were simply keeping him locked up with minimal facilities, something that could have been done just as easily at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was trapped in a room alone with his thoughts, and suddenly the room began to feel very claustrophobic. He started sweating even more profusely, the panic beginning to rise, the bile beginning to rise in his throat. At this point he wished for nothing more than to be dead. He did not want to live his life this way. He would rather be dead than feel everything that was beginning to descent upon him. But there was nothing in the room that would facilitate his wish, so he did the only thing he could do. He fell to his knees and let out a guttural wail and screamed until he could scream no more. And once he tired of screaming, he felt the sobs begin to wrack his body. _Why did I have to survive_ , he thought. _Why couldn't Voldemort have just killed me? Why am I still here? I don't want to live anymore!_

Just as he was having these thoughts, the door to his room opened. He looked up and saw Pansy standing in the door, with silent tears streaming down her face. She stood there just looking at him, taking in the scene and how absolutely destroyed he looked. She had never seen anything more devastating. It felt like an eternity for both of them, as he was incapable of looking her in the eyes, and she had no words to speak. The situation was horrific and surreal at the same time. Pansy never thought that she would see such a broken Draco Malfoy, and she didn't know what to do. She had no clue how to help him; she just knew that she couldn't leave him to be in this state. So she did the only thing she could think of. She sat next to him on the floor while he was still shaking, partly from the withdrawals and partly from his tears. She put her arms around him and pulled him close to her and held him. She didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but it felt right and he didn't push her away, so she stayed like that for several minutes. After a few more moments, she finally spoke.

"Draco," she started. "I won't even pretend to understand why you went down this path, but I am going to be here for you. And we are going to get through this. Together."

Draco looked up at her. "I am not worth the pain. I am not worth the trouble. I am nothing more than a basket case with a shitty past and no future. Don't drag yourself down with me. You have so much going for you, so much to live for. You don't need me. My life is over. Really, I don't know if my life even really started. It was like I was destined to become this, you know? Everyone always thought I lived this amazing life with all of the money and material objects, but really my life was a shit show. My childhood was filled with my father's regret that Potter took down Voldemort. My adolescence was filled with my father's determination to help Voldemort succeed, even allowing me to be used like some kind of god damn sacrificial lamb. My adulthood has been nothing more than trying to block out the memories and the pain of the past. I don't think I have ever truly been alive. And I don't have it in me to try anymore. There is no getting past this, Pans. I just want it all to be over. I've done terrible things, I've been a horrible person, consider this my punishment and my penance for everything I've put everyone through."

"No," she replied. "I refuse to let you just give up. It may not seem like it right now, but there are things worth living for. There are people out there who have nothing, who are completely alone, yet they manage to keep going. You _will_ make it through this. Because I will be here to help you, and so will Blaise. Do you have any idea how scared I was when Harry fucking Potter was flooing me from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the middle of the night? When he told me what was going on, I didn't want to believe it. But as I was rushing over here, it began to make sense. It explained a lot of odd behaviors from you that I didn't always understand. And I know you feel like you can't live without the potion, and that your life is not worth living, but I promise you it is. And I will be here for you. You are not alone. You are worthy. You are a beautiful human being who has just found himself in a fucked up situation."

"I am none of those things. I'm a perpetual failure. I failed at being a Death Eater. I failed at protecting people I cared about. I failed at saving my friend that night in the Room of Requirement. Are you noticing a theme here? I'm nothing more than a fuck up and a failure, who tried to deal with his fuck ups and failures in a way that only made them even worse. Do you know what it's like to see death and destruction every time you close your eyes? To know that it is your fault that people are dead? I have to live with that every damn day, and if I have to feel all of it, it's going to kill me anyway. All I am is a bunch of broken memories and failures and that is not something worth saving. I am nothing. I am less than nothing. And the sooner you realize this, the better off you will be."

"And the sooner you stop being such a stubborn arse and realize that I'm not going anywhere, the easier this is going to be. I'm not going anywhere, Draco Malfoy. No matter how hard you try to push me away, no matter how much you think you don't matter, I will be here annoying the hell out of you until you realize that you do matter and that you are worthy. You know how determined I can be, especially when it comes to something or _someone_ I care about."

Draco sat there in silence for a few moments. He was hearing what she was saying, but he didn't want her to be saying it. He would much rather hear her berating him and confirming what he knew, that he was nothing. What he could not deal with, what he absolutely could not handle was someone trying to convince him that he was worth _anything_. It would be so much easier if nobody cared, because then he could just let go without any consequences. But he knew that he didn't want to cause anyone else more pain. He had caused enough pain in his life. But he didn't know how he was going to keep going through this whole ordeal. As though she could read his mind, Pansy held on to him tight, letting him know through her embrace that she was refusing to let him go. And in that moment, he knew he was going to have to try to deal with all of his baggage, not just for his sake, but also for Pansy's. And the thought of having to deal with everything, coupled with his physical problems caused him to break Pansy's hold on him and reach for the bucket. He knew he had a long road ahead of him, but he also knew it was a road he would not be travelling alone, no matter how desolate it might seem.


End file.
